


With Trembling Hearts

by Messi10_Neymar11



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Arguing, Bickering, Comfort, Cutesy, El Clásico, Firsts/Routines, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gerard is a giraffe, IApologizeInAdvance, La Liga, Love/Hate, M/M, NSFW, Serard, Sergio is smol, ThisWillEndUpLikeCressiWeek, guaranteed, la roja, serardweek2k18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messi10_Neymar11/pseuds/Messi10_Neymar11
Summary: Themes1. March 15: Firsts/Routines2. March 16: Love/Hate3. March 17: La Roja4. March 18: El Clásico5. March 19: AU Day6. March 20: Kinks/NSFW7. March 21: Free ChoiceIT’S #SERARDWEEK2K18!!!!Everyone knows I love my Serard. How could I possibly miss this week?? :)I really hope to see a lot of contributors considering that Serard is that low key ship! It needs to get more attention- so do something this week! :3





	1. The Worst Things In Life Come Free To Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing that crossed Sergio’s mind was that Gerard was a fucking giraffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “On your left.”
> 
> \- Totally fucking stole this from Captain America; The Winter Soldier, but idgaf because it was funny as hell and I can just picture this with Geri and Sese SO WELLLL.
> 
> I’ve learned from CressiWeek to just tone down my chapters to smaller ones, lmao.
> 
> Cressiweek was a nightmare for me you guys, omg, you have no idea.
> 
> I would write such big ass chapters in like two hours and it was just a mess, so yeahhh Serard is gonna be more chill (Hopefully- all of you know how I get)
> 
> I didn’t even finish my chapters for Cressiweek and it’s been like, 8 months lmao.
> 
> Fair warning that’ll most likely end up happening here.
> 
> I’M SORRY IT’S JUST THE WAY I AM OK

_**Day One: Firsts/Routines** _

 

“- _ **A** nd_ _this is Gerard Pique_.”

 

Sergio stared. He sat in the back of the dressing room with Iker to his right who was also watching Geri with curious eyes filled with slight excitement. Fernando, on his left, face a sweep of a glance before turning to his phone.

 

“He’ll be playing with us in the FIFA Confederations Cup.” 

 

Whispers began flooding through the dressing room after hearing that. People questioning him, praising him, hesitant about him...

 

Sergio heard a few of what was being said, like how he was one of the infamously La Masia grown prodigies. How he moved from La Masia to the famous Manchester United giants.

 

”He’s coming to South Africa with us?” Iker murmurs in hushed confusion. “This late?”

 

Fernando shrugged while the Spaniard in the middle ignored him, eyes fixated on the new member.

 

The first thing that crossed Sergio’s mind was that Gerard was a fucking _giraffe_.

 

He was so. Damn. _Tall_.

 

So yes, Sergio stared with something almost akin to amazement.

 

He stood, a good few feet more than Sergio. His skin was an olive yellow, pinkening into a natural flush in his cheeks with bruise colored full lips pulled into a slight, small, boyish and mischievous grin. He had floppy brown hair that fell over his forehead and just curled slightly at the back of his neck- a messy and carefree style. His eyes were an unforgivably beautiful blue. Sergio had to blink when he saw that. They looked much too picturesque. Like waves, he could see the stormy waters of different shades of blue and navy roaring in them with confidence. His lanky and lean form didn’t hide his physique much.

 

The sudden movement that caused those ocean deep blue eyes to meet the soft brown ones of Sergio’s caught him in surprise, and he froze for a moment. 

 

Gerard’s eyes didn’t shift over Sergio to assess him like the older Spaniard had done, only focused on staring right into his eyes. For some reason- that made Sergio more self conscious. A sly smirk suddenly grew on the United player’s face.

 

And then- he winked.

 

Sergio blinked.

 

Realization settled in.

 

Then he scowled.

 

Gerard snickers when he sees Sergio’s irritated look. 

 

“Okay, it’s official- that dude is an asshole.” Sergio declares to Iker once Gerard looks back to their coach.

 

Iker looks over to him with a confused look. “What? You haven’t even talked to the guy.”

 

”I know one when I see one.”

 

”Of course you do- you find one everyday when you look in the mirror.” Fernando snorts from next to him.

 

Sergio smacks him on the back of the head.

 

He looks back ahead to see Gerard walking out of the room with his hands in his pockets.

 

So much for first meetings.

 

>>> <<<

 

The thing that set Sergio off from all the other defenders he was fighting a position in the first team for with, was the fact that his passion and determination surpassed all of theirs combined. 

 

There was no other reason he woke up at five am every morning to run around the outside of the pitch until practice. He was growing- building his name. Wanted everyone to cheer it until La Roja had no choice _but_ to put him with the first team for the World Cup next year.

 

He can’t stop- _wouldn’t_ stop. One of the few qualities about himself he actually appreciate having.

 

Of course there was a lot of talent in Spain. But the fact that he was here with the U-21 team to defend his country and win a Federation Cup gave him _hope_. He wasn’t a little five year old boy in a battered up Spain jersey anymore. He wasn’t watching tv anymore- he was actually playing on the pitch he’d watch for years.

 

He only had a taste- a taste that was so obsessively possessing, that he needed more. So much more that he honestly believed he couldn’t live if he didn’t get the whole thing. 

 

So he ran. 

 

He frowned when when he heard the padded thumps of running feet behind him, catching up. 

 

When he glanced, he was startled to see a grinning Gerard Pique behind him.

 

”On your left,” he says with amusement, no tiredness in his voice at all as he passed Sergio, running ahead by a couple feet. Sergio was left staring at his back.

 

Where Sergio was a panting mess, Gerard was as cool as a cucumber, strangely calm.

 

Sergio hated it.

 

-

 

“On your left,” The same voice hums the next day, passing by Sergio with ease.

 

It was those damn giraffe legs.

 

Sergio couldn’t help the prickle of irritarion that passed through him as he watched Gerard run off, way ahead of him now. 

 

-

 

“On your-“

 

”Left! I got it!” Sergio snapped, heaving through heavy lungs as Pique’s smug grin grew wide.

 

Sergio watched with narrowed eyes as Pique practically skipped ahead of him.

 

This man was definitely the most annoying thing he’s ever met.

 

-

 

Sergio hears him before he sees him. “Don’t you say it-“

 

”On your left,” Pique sang, running ahead no matter how hard Sergio pushed himself to get ahead of him.

 

”For fuck’s _sake_!”

 

Pique’s laugh rang throughout the empty field.

 

>>> <<<

 

The locker room was empty now. Sergio stared blankly at the locker across him, sitting in the darkness. He had turned the lights off the minute Iker had finally left him alone. The sweaty jersey clung to his still warm skin, cheeks pink and eyes filled with tiredness while his lips were pulled in a grim and thin line.

 

They lost.

 

 _So much for proving yourself_. He thought to himself bitterly.

 

There was suddenly a long and heavy arm draping over his shoulders. He threw a glance from the corner of his eye to see Gerard sit down next to him. For the first time, the other man didn’t have a teasing grin or a mischievous glint in his eyes. His face was calm, cheeks pink with sweat as well. His hair was pulled back out of his face and he looked slightly relaxed. His eyes gave it away- the obvious disappointment and blandness was definitely there.

 

Sergio turned back forward, not saying a word.

 

They both stared at the lockers in front of them- Gerard with a thoughtful look and Sergio with furrowed brows. Minutes passed like that in silence.

 

”On your left.” Gerard then mutters, voice heavy and thick with disappointment.

 

Sergio felt the corner of his lips curl just a bit as he let out a chuckle. It was a bitter and sad smile. “Yeah- I know.”

 

For the first time, he didn’t mind the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Managed to get the Firsts and Routines in there at the same time. 
> 
> Barcelona beat Chelsea.
> 
> Busquets doesn’t get the credit he deserves there, lol. 
> 
> (Umtiti is legit an alien)


	2. If You Talk Enough Sense, Then You’ll Lose Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio really did love Geri sometimes, but most of the time he just fucking hates the man.

_**Day 2: Love/Hate** _

 

“What the fuck is your problem, Pique!?” Sergio snarled, voice echoing throughout his quiet house when he shouted at the other man.

 

”Me? I didn’t fucking say anything about you, Ramos.” The Barça man shot back, voice slightly muffled.

 

Sergio’s hand clenched around his phone and he glared at the wall angrily, almost wishing Gerard was here so he could knock his teeth in. 

 

“That comment you made about Alvaro isn’t okay, Gerard!” He snaps. “Fucking shut the hell up! You’re going to far!”

 

”Exactly— that comment I made about  _Arbeloa_. Not you. Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” The words were filled with snark, but Sergio wasn’t stupid- he could hear the amusement in the other man’s voice.

 

Sergio really fucking hated Geri sometimes. Especially in moments like this, when he was all mouth. His words were like daggers— and the press loved to throw them at Sergio until he got cut.

 

”It is my damn business— as his teammate and _yours_!”

 

Gerard sucks in a sharp breath. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

 

”As if you haven’t noticed! You’re causing problems in La Roja and you know it!”

 

”What the hell are you talking about now, Sergio?” Geri sounded pissed, and Sergio rolls his eyes. He had no right to be angry— not when Sergio was trying to play peacekeeper here, and failing miserably.

 

”Oh please, Geri. The fans are starting to fucking hate you and some of the guys are getting seriously annoyed with you. You need to just stay fucking quiet—“

 

”The way your country silenced Catalonia without a second thought!?” Geri snarls loudly. Sergio stopped abruptly.

 

They both became silent.

 

”What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Sergio whispers in the phone, voice flat. “In case you’ve fucking forgotten asshole, it’s _your_ damn country too.”

 

He hears Gerard huff over the line. “Is it really?”

 

”Are you kidding me Gerard! Of course it is! Catalonia _is_ Spain!”

 

”No it fucking isn’t and you know it. Spain— no, _Madrid_ is making Catalonia Spain and it isn’t. Rough washing our culture right out of us!”

 

”You’re insane!” Sergio shouts. “You’re going to ruin the bond of your teammates over this!? _Politics_!?”

 

”This isn’t politics fucktard. This is Madrid forcing a completely different cultural section to stay despite being totally different.”

 

”That’s exactly what it is you piece of shit! Advocate your fucking Catalonia spirit all you want, but stop dragging the other players and Madrid into it.”

 

”MADRID IS THE WHOLE FUCKING PROBLEM!” Gerard is beyond furious now. This was exactly the problem between them. The way and places they were brought up will never allow them to see eye to eye. And both of them were too stubborn and passionate to back out of their views. “The only reason Madrid are keeping Barcelona is because they fucking know that Barcelona is where they get most their cash.”

 

Sergio’s face is red. “Shut the hell up you pretzel stick! Madrid is the culture of Spain!”

 

“Exactly Sergio!” Gerard hisses. “Of _Spain_. Barcelona has no part of that- we’re _Catalonia_. Fuck your city. It’s ruining Spain.”

 

”Oh go suck a dick!”

 

”You already suck Madrid’s, so what does it fucking matter!?”

 

”Giraffe looking Bitch! Fuck you Pique!” Sergio snaps, ending the call and throwing his phone at the wall in anger, smashing it into a bunch of pieces and watching it cluttering to the floor loudly with blazing eyes.

 

Sergio really did love Geri sometimes, but most of the time he just fucking hates the man.

 

>>> <<<

 

The thing was, Geri deserved this.

 

Sergio watched the tall man barely jump out of the way of a water bottle that was thrown at him with force.

 

 _He brought this onto himself_. Sergio thought, wincing as the chants cursing Geri grew louder and louder. 

 

 _He should have never caused rifts between himself and everyone else on the team_. Sergio tries convincing himself. The whistles were deafeningly loud, and Geri rubbed his face tiredly. Even Isco threw the Catalan a look of pity.

 

 _It’s his fault, it’s his fault, it’s his fault—_  The minute the whistle blows to end the match, Geri is practically running off the pitch. “Geri!” Marc calls, worry in his eyes.  _Fuck_. Sergio thinks. 

 

He began running after him, when Iker’s voice stops him. “Sergio! What—?” The galkeeper looks worried and confused. “I’ll handle this!” Sergio calls to the Madridsta and concerned Barça players. He continues to chase after where Geri had slipped off to.

 

The insults and whistling die out the further he moves down in the tunnel.

 

He looks around frantically. “Come on Geri, where’d you go..” 

 

He walks down a quiet hallway, barely passing by a door when he stopped abruptly at the sound of muffled crying.

 

Sergio rushes over to it, yanking it open. It’s dark, and it takes a minute for his eyes to adjust. He sees Geri sitting across the door in the middle of the small supply closet, his back pressed against the cold wall with his legs stretched out in front of him against the floor, slightly parted.

 

Sergio is frozen in the doorway of the small room, hand holding the door open for just enough light to shine in and show Gerard more clearly.

 

The red Spain jersey clings to his sweaty skin. His neck, cheeks, and nose are a bright color of pink and his chest is heaving from the intense match they had just played— Sergio breathing just as heavily. His short cropped hair is brushed out of his face like it always is, slight glittering of cold sweat visible on his forehead. His hands lay limp in his lap, shoulders slumped slightly.

 

He’s staring blankly up at Sergio’s face, wide blue eyes glassed over with tears that also stream down his face silently, lips pressed in a grim line. “Please go away,” He chokes out in despair. 

 

Sergio stood and stared for a moment, watching Geri’s body shake slightly and his bottom lip quiver.

 

Then he’s moving, quickly as the door shuts slowly behind him. Geri watches him cautiously until Sergio is standing in between his legs, gently moving Geri’s head away from the wall and shoving his face into Sergio’s stomach, carassing the back of his neck softly in a gentle hug.

 

The door clicks shut behind him, ingulfing the two in darkness and Sergio presses his forehead against the wall, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

 

Geri is tense for a while, before slowly one hand reaches up to clench the red material of Sergio’s Jersey near his waist in his hand tightly. The other arm wrapped around the back of his thighs, hugging tightly. He cries silently, nuzzling his head into Sergio’s stomach in search for comfort that the other man was more than willing to give.

 

”I—I don’t deserve to be here,” Geri murmurs out.

 

”Shh. Yes you do,” Sergio reassures. “Geri— You deserve to be here, okay? And don’t let a couple assholes in the stands tell you otherwise.” 

 

Geri is silent for a minute. “You agree with them though.” 

 

Sergio runs a soothing hand through Gerard's matted hair. “Not like that. Never like that, Geri. That’s cowardly. We might not agree on things, but don’t you think for a damn second that I’ll let shit like that happen to you. I care about you too much.”

 

Geri’s grip on him tightens. “When Iker leaves, you’re going to make a beautiful Captain, Sese.”

 

Sergio’s breath caught in his throat and his chest bloomed with warmth and fluttered with happiness.

 

”Thanks Geri.”

 

Yeah— they may not see eye to eye, but it was moments like these, where Sergio truly did love Geri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did we really just draw fucking Juventus lmao, are you kidding me. XD
> 
> Whatever- Hala Madrid! I stand by my team (:
> 
> Barcelona drew AS Roma.
> 
> How... WHAT!?
> 
> Also that Liverpool vs Manchester City game is going to be really fucking good.
> 
> I’m amazed Sevilla got this far! Good for them! But I don’t think they’ll be enough to beat Bayern tbh.
> 
> I think Man City, Barça, Madrid, and Bayern are gonna enter the Semis. I would like to see Liverpool there though, tbh.


	3. You’re The Reason That I Just Can’t Concentrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst and best things about the entire tournament in Brazil, was that everyone in the La Roja team was fucking insane. Well- except for Thiago.

_**Day Three: La Roja** _

 

“Are you gonna be hiding out in your room all day, then?” Fernando asks, taking a snipping bite into his apple as he stared at the laptop in front of him, making a couple clicks once and a while.

 

”I’m not hiding,” Sergio grumbled with a dirty look thrown to the other Spaniard. 

 

The Atletico player shrugged innocently, throwing a quick glance up at the defender before looking back down at the screen. “Of course you aren’t.”

 

Sergio ignores his words. “Where’s Iker?” 

 

“Went down to get breakfast.”

 

“Only Iker would be up this fucking early to get breakfast,” Sergio snorts. He slipped the red La Roja shirt over his head, zipping the half zipper up to his collarbones and pulling the sleeves over his hands.

 

”I’m going,” he declares, and Fernando looks genuinely surprised. “Oh shit, really? They grow up so fast,” He pouts.

 

Sergio throws a pillow that bounces off the blonde’s head and hits the lamp on the table next to him, knocking it to the ground. Sergio and Fernando watched with gaping mouths as it hit a book on its way down, which fell over and whacked into a flowerpot that went crashing to the ground, falling onto the charger cord that yanks Feenando’s Phone to the floor, smashing both to pieces.

 

They stare silently at the broken lamp, flower pot, and now, Fernando’s phone.

 

Sergio nervously turned his gaze to Fernando, who’s face gets redder and redder with anger the more he stares at his broken phone.

 

Sergio ran out of the room.

 

”SERGIO! GET BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT— YOU OWE ME A NEW FUCKING PHONE!!!”

 

>>> <<<

 

Once he was sure he was out of the wrath of angry atomic blonde #1, Sergio strolled into the breakfast room. 

 

He accidently bumps into Vicente, who looks impeccably irritated.

 

”What happened coachy coach?” Sergio asks cheerfully.

 

”What happened is that I’m stuck with a bunch of children— I swear to God.” The old man grumbles to himself, brushing past Sergio.

 

”Oh- coach! If you see Fernando, remember that he’s probably going to tell you that I broke a lamp, pot, and his phone! It’s all lies— he’s trying to get me in trouble!” Sergio called after him. The man frowned in utter confusion. “What did you say!?”

 

”Nice talk!” Sergio yips happily, shutting the door.

 

”Wait! Sergio—“

 

The door closes with a click. With that taken care of, Sergio releases a breath. 

 

Besides— It was Nando’s fault for not having a case on his phone.

 

He walks over to the table, pouring himself a cup water and a small bowl of fresh fruits.

 

“Cesc, can you speak Arabic?”

 

Honestly— how the fuck did it take Sergio this long to realize Geri was here?

 

The three didn’t notice Sergio standing by the buffet table, a few feet away from their own table. Too busy on Geri’s periscope. Surprisingly enough, Iker sat next to Gerard willingly while he munched on his biscuits. Geri was looking at Cesc with a questioning look. He was wearing a long sleeved blue shirt and his red Spain shirt overtop. 

 

“A little bit,” Cesc states with a shrug over Geri’s laughter and rambling, causing the fall defender to stop suddenly, eyes snapping to him. 

 

“Dude what? You know how to speak a little bit in Arabic?” There’s surprise in his voice as he stared at the Chelsea player with amazement. 

 

Cesc nods, staring at the camera of Gerard’s phone with a big grin. “Habibtay!”

 

Sergio snorts.

 

Only fucking Cesc.

 

Iker throws Cesc the most possible _what the fuck_ face he’s ever made.

 

“Habibtay,” Geri hums, turning to see Iker’s face only to burst out laughing upon seeing his weirded out expression while Cesc shoves the keeper. “Shut up.”

 

Sergio approaches their table and Iker suddenly looks alarmed when he sees the defender, eyes shifting nervously between him and Geri who has yet to notice the new addition to the table.

 

”What are you guys doing?” Sergio asks. He looks at Iker, but notices the way that Geri’s wide and surprised blue eyes look up at him. 

 

“Periscope.” Cesc answered with a shrug.

 

He sees the glint in Geri’s eyes appear, his hands reaching for his phone to pull it up but Sergio ends the live video before Gerard’s bitchass can get a shot of Sergio in it. “Hey!” Geri complained. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye you ass!”

 

”You’re a footballer, not a kardashian.” Sergio scoffed, settling down in the seat next to Iker and across from Geri. Their eyes don’t leave each other’s focused with narrowed sneers. “What’s the difference?” Cesc snorts. “They’re both drama queens.”

 

”For once I enjoy myself, and you ruin it.” Gerard grumbled with a pout. 

 

“Excuse me for not wanting to be in your stupid videos.” Sergio says sarcastically. 

 

“You’re lame as fuck Sergio. You act like an old man more than Vicente does. And that says a lot.”

 

”Shut the hell up, Pique. You’re the one that acts like a twelve year old all the damn time.” Sergio snapped. Gerard snorts, eyes not shifting up from his phone screen as he replied. “At least I’m not the one with the stick up my ass 24/7.”

 

”You—“

 

 “Seriously you two— not right now please. It’s only been two days and you’re already at each other’s throats.” Iker sighed.

 

”We were the ones actually having fun until he came in and acted like a dick for no fucking reason.” Gerard shrugged nonchalantly. Sergio could see the prickle of irritation in his eyes though. 

 

Sergio suddenly felt a bit out of place and awkward. As if he didn’t belong here even though it was Iker, his Madridsta praising Iker. The way Gerard was talking really made it seem like Sergio had came in and rained on everyone’s parade. It made him self conscious very, _very_ quickly.

 

”You’re the one that called me an old man.” Sergio retorts, eyes guarded. Gerard’s eyes leave his phone and look at the other defender with annoyance. “I didn’t even mind you being here until you started being a little bitch.”

 

”I didn’t want to be in your fucking periscope Gerard, oh my god.” Sergio angrily bit into his raspberry. 

 

“That’s fine Sergio. I didn’t really fucking care until you started taking everything I said to you so damn personally. It’s always only you that can’t take a damn joke.”

 

”If you have a problem then fucking leave,” Sergio snapped. He expect Gerard to reverse it on him and tell Sergio to leave considering he’s the one that came in and ruined everyone’s mood, but surprisingly enough, Gerard shrugged, finishing his water and leaving without saying another word.

 

”Can you believe him?” Sergio scoffed, shoving a strawberry into his mouth angrily. Iker stared at him quietly, a hesitant look in his eyes. “Yes I can.”

 

Sergio stopped, turning to Iker with narrowed eyes. “What?”

 

”You were being a little mean, Sese.” The keeper chooses his words carefully.

 

”How!? He was-“

 

”You totally started it dude. You knew Geri was joking around about the whole thing.” Cesc replies honestly, sipping his water.

 

”I didn't even do anything.” 

 

Cesc sighed, looking Sergio straight in the eyes. “You came over here with a sulk, turned Geri’s periscope off and acted incredibly defensive for no reason. It was super random.” 

 

“Of course you’d take his side. Going to England doesn’t really change a thing. Once a culé, always a culé, right?” Sergio blurts out in blinded anger.

 

Cesc doesn’t even look surprised, only bored. “Once a complete jerk, always a complete jerk— right?” 

 

Sergio faltered. 

 

He watched Cesc pat Iker on the shoulder before leaving the room.

 

Sergio sat silently for a moment, assessing all that had happened. “I was being a dick, wasn’t I?”

 

”Yes you were.” Iker replies gruffly. He looks tired.

 

”I’m sorry.” Sergio says honestly.

 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Iker shrugs, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t mind being with Geri, Sese. You know, if you actually took the time to sit down with him and talk to the guy, you’d realize that he isn’t that bad.” 

 

“Do you honestly believe that?” Sergio asks in disbelief. 

 

“I do.” Iker replies easily. “You take everything he says too seriously. He just likes to joke and tease. I actually didn’t mind talking to him on his periscope— it was kinda fun. He knows his limitations. You just like to think everything Geri says has malice when it really doesn’t. You’ve got this mindset that if Geri said it, then it’s bad.” 

 

“So Gerard is always innocent.” Sergio narrows his eyes.

 

”I never said that. I’m just saying that you were the one who was wrong this time. You need to lighten up a bit when it comes to Geri.” Iker stood, grabbing his last biscuit. He ruffles Sergio’s hair lovingly. “Just... try to understand him? Get along with him? You’ll be surprised at how much you’ll actually end up liking him.”

 

Then he leaves. Sergio stares down into his bowl with a frown. “Doubt it,” he mutters.

 

>>> <<<

 

 The worst and best things about the entire tournament in Brazil, was that everyone in the La Roja team was fucking insane. Well- except for Thiago.

 

Angry atomic blonde #2, surprisingly enough, ended up being Toni Kroos. And funnily enough, the creation of angry atomic blonde #3 and #4, which was Marc-André Ter Stegen and Erik Drum.

 

Well, he mostly blamed Isco for this.

 

”Is this his?”

 

Sergio nodded hesitantly and pointed to the door number that matched The key card’s, watching Isco slide the card in and the door light changing from red to green, allowing them entrance. “I still don’t understand what we’re doing?”

 

”Shhh.” Isco hushed, entering with Dani right behind him, hugging a suspicious looking bag in his hand.

 

”How did you end up getting Toni’s key card anyway?” He asks in confusion as they entered the room.

 

”I snatched it from his bag when he wasn’t looking.” Isco replies as Dani dumps the bag to the floor.

 

Sergio stared at the many packets of red and dark yellow sticky notes, oddly similar to the colors of the Jersey they wore. “What the fuck are you guys doing..” Sergio asked in a harsh whisper. 

 

“We’re just playing a little prank. And you, my friend— are going to help us.” Isco dumped bed sheets in his hands.

 

”Are you insane?”

 

”Oh come on Sese! You know Toni isn’t gonna be super pissed about it. He’s a marshmallow.” Dani reassured. “Besides, it releases a bit of tension before the tournament starts! Loosens the mood- lightens it up!”

 

Sergio thought for a moment. _You need to lighten up a bit_. Iker’s words echoed in his mind. _Be like Geri. This is something Geri would do, right?_ He thought and then he shrugs, moving towards the bed.

 

By the time they were done, all the walls were covered in red and yellow sticky notes. There was a Spain flag hanging against the window and the plain white bedsheets were replaced with La Roja sheets, all the player’s faces on it. Isco has been evil enough to change their towels with Spain ones, too.

 

”Holy shit,” Dani says in amazement, an impressed look on his face. “We need to get the hell out of here before Toni gets back,” Isco says quickly, turning all the lights off and shutting the door. They took off to get back to their side of the hotel with the other Spaniards before they could catch the eyes of any Germans. 

 

It happened when they were finishing up dinner. Almost everyone was gone apart from Sergio, Isco, Dani, Iker, Gerard, Andrès, Marc, Cesc, David, and Marc.

 

The doors slammed open with a furious Toni Kroos, Erik Drum, and Ter Stegen. Along with a laughing Thomas Müller and Mario Götze.

 

Sergio threw an alarmed look at Isco who’s eyes widened.

 

”Which one of you was it?” Toni demanded. “Yeah seriously! Which one of you was it!? Because we need to be best friends!” Thomas howled with laughter, face red.

 

”We have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dani said slowly. Toni suddenly turned to Isco.

 

”Isco you motherfucker.” Toni snapped. Isco panics. “It was Sergio! He did the sheets!” 

 

Sergio whipped his head toward the midfielder with a look of betrayal. “What!? It was your idea!”

 

“He made me do it! I swear!” Isco cried.

 

”Are you serious!? You’re the one that hung up the flag!” Sergio stood, pointing accusatory at him.

 

”Yeah, well— Dani did the sticky notes!”  Isco cries out.

 

Dani’s jaw dropped. “Isco, you piece of shit— Sergio helped me with the sticky notes! He’s the one that told me to do the bathroom too!” 

 

“What the hell are you guys talking about!?” Iker snaps loudly, cutting them off.

 

They turned to the Keeper quickly. “It wasn’t me, I swear!” All three stated simultaneously. 

 

“What. Are. You. Taking. About?” Iker stares at all of them accusingly.

 

”It started with that little snitch over there.” Dani snaps, pointing at Isco. Sergio nodded frantically in agreement.

 

”He told me to go out and buy all this La Roja shit and then peer pressured me into going with him.” Dani’s eyes welled up with tears.

 

”False! He was willing!” Isco exclaims. “You shut up!” Dani hisses. 

 

“He stole Toni’s key card from his bag and took Sergio and I to the bedroom. He pinned up the flag while I did the sticky notes with Sergio. Sergio also did the bedsheets!” Dani pointed at Sergio.

 

Iker turned to Sergio with rage evident in his eyes. “Sergio, what the hell man?”

 

”What!?” 

 

“I’m not even surprised by these two idiots, but I thought you had some sense! Why would you do that!?”

 

”You told me to lighten up!”

 

”And that translates to _go trash another team’s room_ in your head!? What the fuck!?”

 

”I was just trying to be like Geri!”

 

The room became silent, and Sergio froze.

 

Gerard who was laughing loudly the entire time from where he was sitting on the table let out a sudden strangled sound of surprise, eyes moving up to Sergio’s face.

 

Sergio’s face flamed, and he felt the dreadful embarrassment flood into his body.

 

As if sensing Sergio’s discomfort, Toni spoke up quickly. And honestly, bless him for that.

 

”Wait— who’s room did you think you messed with?” He turns to Isco.

 

Isco blinks his gaze away from Sergio to the German. “Uh, yours?”

 

”Well,” Toni began with venom. “It wasn’t mine!”

 

”What?” Dani frowned. “Who’s was it then?”

 

”Ours!” Ter and Erik snapped with furiously annoyed looks.

 

”Oh shit.” Isco whispers to himself.

 

Dani and Sergio shifted their gaze to Isco with scowls. “You had one fucking job you dumbass and you screwed that up too!”

 

A gentle hand landed on Sergio’s shoulder and he looks up at Iker.

 

”You two,” Iker points to the Madridstas. “You two are going up there and getting rid of every single La Roja item in that room and won’t come back until you’re done.”

 

”What!? Those sticky notes took three hours!” Dani cried. 

 

“That sucks— should’ve thought about that before being stupid.” Iker snips.

 

”What about Sergio?” Isco frowns.

 

Iker glances at the still embarrassed defender. “I need to talk to Sergio for a bit. You two go. Now. Or I’ll get Vicente.” He says calmly.

 

With a huff the two followed the Germans out of the room, Toni rambling in the two Spaniards’ ears.

 

Sergio rushed to leave, dragging Iker out of the room. Geri’s heated eyes followed him all the way out.

 

”I can’t believe I said that,” Sergio whispers to himself in horror, covering his face as he leaned against the wall.

 

”When I said to lighten up,” Iker began. “I didn’t mean _that_.”

 

”Leave me alone in my misery and embarrassment. Let me suffer alone in peace.” Sergio groaned, falling to the floor and whacking his head on the wall lightly, trying to knock the memory out of his mind.

 

Iker chuckled, sitting down next to him with his back pressed against the wall. “You know I won’t do that, Sese.”

 

Sergio frowned at the maroon wall.

 

”When I said all that to you yesterday, it wasn’t because I wanted you to change, Nene.” Iker began. “I just wanted you to ease up on Geri. I just wanted you to understand him. Not to _be_ him. I mean, trust me— One Geri is enough, thank you.”

 

Sergio chuckles. “You’re right about that.”

 

He frowns then. “Geri’s never gonna let that go, is he?”

 

”Probably not,” Iker admits. “But... I think he appreciates the fact that you’re trying with him.” Iker stood.

 

Sergio scoffs. “What difference does it make?”

 

”Who knows?” Iker grins, eyes twinkling as he shrugs. “Maybe now he’ll try with you too.”

 

>>> <<<

 

Sergio is typing furiously in his phone as he approaches the frantic knocking on the door. “I’m coming! Jesus!” He pulls the hotel room door open, not looking up from his phone. “What do you want? It’s six am in the morning dude.”

 

A hand clasps around his wrists and he looks up, startled.

 

Gerard stared down at him with a certain intensity in his eyes.

 

”Wh—What the fu—“ Sergio stammered, heart racing.

 

Gerard ignored him, turning and yanking him out of the room, shutting the door before dragging him down the hall.

 

”Hey! Geri! What—?” Sergio panics, trying to pull out of his grip. Geri ignores them as they enter the elevator.

 

”What are you doing you psychopath!?” Sergio cried out when Geri was covering his eyes with his hand.

 

Gerard didn’t let him go, and Sergio’s vision was completely pitch black. Blindly, he let Sergio guide him out of the elevator when the door opened, gripping his hand tightly.

 

It was cold, a breeze running over him. They were definitely outside.

 

Sergio shivered involuntarily. Gerard stopped, letting Sergio stop too.

 

”Don’t open them. Not yet.” He whispers huskily in his ear then. Sergio stood still when Geri let go, not daring to open his eyes. “I hope you fucking know this is the first and only time I’m trusting you like this.” Sergio threatened.

 

”Liar.” Gerard laughed breathlessly, his footsteps fading away from Sergio who didn’t reply, because he knew Geri was right.

 

There was a minute of silence, air breezing through his ears. “Geri?” He calls out hesitantly, frowning.

 

”Hold on, Sese.”

 

Sergio waited patiently for another two minutes.

 

”Okay... Now— open them now.” Geri said urgently. Sergio opened his eyes, blinking away the white to get a view.

 

His breath hitches. They were on the roof of the hotel, standing in front of the sill at the edge. Over the horizon, the sun had barely peeked out. The rising colors of orange, yellow, and red flooded over the city of Brazil. The colors covered him. Geri was staring right at Sergio with a thick look in his eyes.

 

”Whoah.” Sergio breaths. “It’s so beautiful.”

 

”Yeah, it is.” Geri’s answer was hoarse, eyes never leaving Sergio.

 

Sergio flushed, shifting his gaze from the city to Geri.

 

”Wanna see something amazing? Come here.” Geri grabbed his hand softly. He opens Sergio’s hand and drops a handful of seeds in his palm. 

 

He helps Sergio throw them over the edge, and not even a second later a flutter of pigeons, fly up from the floor below, flying my into the sky.

 

Sergio smiles widely, watching them. The sound of the wingspan fluttering was unbelievably soothing. 

 

Sergio turns to Geri, giving him a questioning look. Geri shrugged. “Found it a couple days ago. No one comes up here. It’s nice. This was only part of the reason I brought you here, though.” He admits and Sergio frowned in confusion.

 

All of a sudden Gerard pulls out a pair of binoculars from his bag with an evil smile, that familiar mischievous hint in his blue eyes that Sergio has grown to love in the past five years.

 

”What is that for?”

 

”We,” he puts one in Sergio’s hands. “Are going to spy on Marc.”

 

”Bartra? But why?” Sergio asks. 

 

“Because he’s acting shady. And he keeps slipping off to a different section of the hotel that isn’t La Roja. And if you’re going to try to be like me,” Geri smirks and Sergio flushes in embarrassment. “Then you’re gonna have to learn from the best.”

 

”Shut up,” Sergio groans turning away from the Barça player. 

 

“Aw Sese,” Geri teases, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling Sergio into his chest softly. Sergio didn’t struggle to leave, because Geri was warm in the cold breeze. “I thought it was cute. My number one fan.”

 

”Shut it before I castrate you,” Sergio threatens.

 

Geri chuckles. “Not gonna lie though... I do love my hotheaded Capi #2 Sergio too.” 

 

Sergio shut his eyes at that, warmth spreading open like a flower in his chest.

 

Maybe it was his imagination, but he felt a soft brush of lips on the top of his head. 

 

If it wasn't, he didn’t say anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking hell these are slowly getting longer.
> 
> Plus this is a day late but whatever at this point tbh. I still need to pack and I leave tomorrow );
> 
> Hope you liked it! Hopefully Day 4 will be here soon too.


	4. You Know No Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergio likes to blame Geri a lot. Why they were locked in the camp Nou after hours? Yup- that was Geri’s fault too. (Spoiler Alert: It was both their faults)

**_El Clasico_ **

 

“Oh I’m sorry— I don’t fucking remember asking for your opinion, so shut the fuck up.” Sergio hissed, taking a threatening step to a red faced Geri who’s scowl and eyes present the obvious anger he feels from where they’re standing over a hurt Lionel Messi clutching his ankle.

 

”Just get the hell of the pitch,” Geri snapped. “Trashy pathetic excuse for a captain.”

 

That hurt.

 

Sergio clenched his fists, taking a step forward but a firm grip on his elbow pulled him back.

 

”Calma, calma,” Cristiano hums carefully, gently directing Sergio to the tunnels. “Take a walk, yeah? Cool down.”

 

”He just—“ Sergio began to hiss, eyes ablaze with fury and genuine hurt.

 

”He didn’t mean it. You know he didn’t. Walk it off.” Cris pats his back, and for once, Sergio tucks his tail between his legs and marches off the pitch, listening to the Portuguese.

 

He doesn’t go back to the dressing room, instead slipping into an empty hallway without realization of the sign. 

 

**_RENOVATIONS: DO NOT ENTER._ **

 

Sergio frowns deeply as he thinks. Geri was an ass. Always was. Probably always would be. Six years and Sergio thought that maybe he’d be able to at least stand the taller man’s presence, but even _that_ was difficult to do. 

 

Sergio didn’t get it. It wasn’t a problem with Jordi or Marc. Not was it difficult with Iniesta or Xavi. But with Geri? The man was like the spark that ignited the inner bomb inside of Sergio— burning brighter and brighter until he could get Sergio to burst into pieces.

 

And when Sergio bursts, it hits _everyone_ in the face.

 

Today it was Messi.

 

(Well— most of the time it was Messi, but Sergio would never admit that out loud. Geri would never let him live it down)

 

The most fucked up part about the whole thing was that not only was Geri the spark, but he was also the glue afterwards. 

 

Sergio hated that the most. It’d be easier for them both if Geri was consistently an ass and if Sergio wasn’t consistently a complete idiot. But fucking Geri— always had to give Sergio a reason to like him.

 

The real question wasn’t why can’t they get along. The real question was—

 

_Why can’t they hate each other?_

 

If he was being honest, Sergio was terrified of the answer. Each time that certain thought appeared in his mind, he panicked. Quickly found a distraction. 

 

Sometimes Sergio imagined. If Gerard wasn’t so gung-ho about his _VISCA CATALONIA!_ — would things be different? Or if Sergio wasn’t so passionate about Madrid and let Geri blabber his nonsense out freely the way Isco and Iker did, would it be different?

 

But...

 

Sergio didn’t _want_ to be another Iker or Isco to Geri.

 

_Fucking why though!?_

 

The thought made him want to rip his hair out in frustration.

 

_“Why can’t you be more like Iniesta or Sergi?” He demanded one day over the phone. He could hear Gerard scoff. “Because I’m Gerard Pique. And if you don’t like it, then fuck off.”_

 

Sergio bit his lip. _Is it because you don’t want to be another Xavi or Busquets to me either, Geri?_

 

He instantly scattered the thought away. _Never say that. Don’t even think it._

 

With too much tension, he kicked a nearby book in anger, his cleats scraping over the tiled floor.

 

He watches it slip underneath a supply closet door smoothly.

 

He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or even more annoyed.

 

Then guilt washed over him. Why was he making things hard for other people? It wasn’t the staff’s fault that they worked for a second-class team. (Even if Barcelona was leading by a goal— whatever. He has feelings too, Okay?)

 

He wonders if the score changed.

 

He twists the knob and walks in, looking around until he spots the book on the floor a few inches away. He walks in and beds down to grab it.

 

The door slams shut behind him loudly, engulfing him in darkness.

 

With a scowl, Sergio straightened— book in hand. He turns and walks back towards the door and grabs the knob, twisting it.

 

He falters when it doesn’t open.

 

Brows furrowing in confusion, he tries again. 

 

Nothing.

 

He freezes, going rigid.

 

Did he really just fucking lock himself in a damn supply closet?

 

”Hey- HEY!!” Sergio calls out, knocking his fists on the wood loudly. There’s no reply. “HELP! I’M STUCK! SOMEONE!? ANYONE!!!”

 

No reply.

 

 _This is why being nice leads you to nowhere in life_. He thought, staring helplessly at the door.

 

>>> <<<

 

Gerard walks with disdain out of the locker room, bumping into a surprised Leo.

 

”What’s wrong? Where are you going?” The Argentine asks, a curious look in his eyes.

 

”Ricardo must have taken my clothes down to the basement with the wash. I’m gonna go ask. They aren’t here.” Gerard huffs.

 

Leo frowns. “The laundry guy? That doesn’t sound right. He doesn’t make mistakes like that.”

 

“Yeah, I know..” Geri eyes the dark bruise on the tiny man’s shin. “Fucking Ramos.”

 

Leo doesn’t even glance at his shin, giving Geri a sigh. “Don’t be that harsh on the guy.”

 

”Are you serious?” Gerard stared at him oddly.

 

”I am,” Leo replies with a shrug. Sitting down next to Neymar and pulling off his cleats. “You should see Ronaldo's legs after a clasico.”

 

“Whatever, I’m gonna go ask Ricardo—“ Gerard stops abruptly upon noticing Neymar’s giggling, Rafa’s evil grin, and Dani’s smug smirk.

 

”I swear to God— What did you three do with my clothes!?” Geri snapped. 

 

Neymar’s mouth dropped. “How’d you find out we did something!?” 

 

“Firstly; Just look at your damn faces— it’s like you could put it on a poster and label it _The Three Dicks_. Secondly; You just fucking told me. So where are they?” He demands.

 

”Firstly; Rude,” Neymar began, obviously offended.  “Secondly; We shoved it in the wash with the other jerseys. They’re in the basement.”

 

Gerard really wants to strangle the little shit.

 

He turns to the door. 

 

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Leo called.

 

”No!” Geri says with an attitude, overall annoyed.

 

Rafa huffed. “What’s his problem?”

 

”He got into a fight with his wifey today.”

 

Gerard scowled. “Shut up Jordi!”

 

”Hey— It’s your fault for starting that argument with Sergio. Don’t take your anger out on me.” The other Spaniard put his hands up in defense.

 

The slamming door is the response he gets. 

 

“Those two need to seriously fuck.” Dani states loudly in the quiet room.

 

”Aaaand I’m gone.” Leo’s face scrunches up at the image the Brazilian has engraved in his brain, grabbing his bag and leaving.

 

>>> <<<

 

Gerard manages to make it to the basement and despite playing at the Camp Nou for years, he’s never been down there before. He has only one word to describe it—

 

Creepy as _fuck_.

 

Ok— that was three words, but still. It was cold, dark, and silent. The lights were bulbs inches away from each other in a dark hallway and Gerard swears he'll get Cardiac Arrest if he sees something move even by the slightest bit.

 

 _Trashy pathetic excuse for a captain_.

 

Gerard winced. He’s starting to think that the only thing he was good at, was royally fucking up everything. The worst part about it all was watching Sergio’s face flinch, hazel eyes filled with a shocked hurt. 

 

He didn't mean it— of course he didn’t. Sese was ten times the captain he’d ever be. Knowing Sergio though, he took it to heart. 

 

There was just something so _amusing_ about pissing Sergio off. Seeing the flare ignite in his eyes and the snarky remarks come out of his mouth was almost addictive. The only one from Madrid that actively responded to Geri— actually called him after all his tweets to yell at him. Sergio’s reactions only cheered Geri on even more, until suddenly Sese was the center of his teasing and complaining. Just so he could see that angry scrunch in Sergio’s face.

 

Geri did push his luck a lot though if he was honest. Today was too far. He’d known the pressure Sergio felt to take up the mantle of Capi after Iker had left Madrid. Especially with the horrible conditions in which the keeper had been sent off. (Just another reason Geri fucking hated Madrid) With the fans and media expecting so much of him. To bring the glory of the good old days.

 

And in Sergio’s defense, he was a fucking amazing captain. Madrid, begrudgingly enough for Geri to admit, was doing quite well. (They still sucked. And Geri would sing it to his grave) 

 

Gerard entered the laundry room, ducking under a low hanging pipe and rummaging through the large basket. He felt around until he felt the slightly tougher material of his jeans and tee shirt. With a victorious smile, he stood up too quickly.

 

The back of his head smacked against the pole incredibly roughly and he stumbled forward until his head hit another one from the front this time, just as hard— if not, harder.

 

His vision blurred and he felt dizzy. Suddenly he felt everything go black as he fell forward and into the basket, passed out.

 

>>> <<<

 

Funnily enough, Sergio was starting to think that maybe he would die there.

 

The wrath of the spirts of past Barça legends was raining down on him for hurting the precious Lionel Messi, and he was now cursed to die in the Camp Nou of all places. 

 

Sergio thought it was a bit unfair— Pepe _definitely_ deserved to be there too.

 

He laid on the floor, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His foot smacked against the door lazily. He had given up screaming after two hours. “I’m sorry for hurting your precious puppy Messi! In my defense, he’s very small.” Sergio stated. “Can you please let me out now?”

 

God, he was talking to a fucking _Stadium_.

 

He’s officially lost it.

 

But then, the door was suddenly yanked open loudly and Sergio has a fucking _heart attack_.

 

” _Holy_ fucking _shit—_ what the _fuck_ — the Camp Nou is alive!” He cries out.

 

”Sergio?”

 

Sergio sat up just in time to see a stumbling Gerard enter the closet, a dazed expression on his face and a hand pressed against the side of his head.

 

”Wait! GERI THE DOOR!”

 

It shuts just as Sergio scrambled up to jump for it.

 

Sergio stares at it for a moment, Gerard slumping next to him tiredly. “What the hell are you doing in here, man?” Geri asks weakly.

 

”The fucking door locks from the outside.” Sergio snapped. “Now you’ve trapped us both. This is all your fault.”

 

Sergio likes to blame Geri a lot. Why they were locked in the camp Nou after hours? Yup- that was Geri’s fault too.

 

Or at least— that’s what he’d tell people if they asked what happened.

 

Gerard narrows his eyes. “My fault? You’re the one who’s been here for the past four hours!” 

 

“And I have to pee!” Sergio says angrily.

 

Geri rolls his eyes. He rubs his head again with a wince. Sergio glances at him with curious eyes. “What happened?”

 

”I— _fuck_ — I whacked my head against a pole and fainted in a laundry basket.” Gerard grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut tightly with a grimace.

 

Sergio tried to be serious, he promises he tried his best.

 

He burst out laughing. “Oh my _God_ — that is the most Gerard Pique thing I’ve heard all year!” 

 

“The fuck are you laughing for? You thought the fucking Nou was alive you weirdo!” Gerard scoffed with a chuckle at the thought.

 

Sergio's cheeks heated “Hey— The door opened the minute I told it to open. You can’t blame me for that one man.”

 

Geri smiles but the whimpers when he presses too hard on his head.

 

Sergio stared, shuffling over and tilting Geri’s head towards him. “Does it hurt a lot?”

 

Geri averts his gaze, shaking his head no. “It’s just a dull ache. It’s fine.”

 

He looks around then, eyes stopping at the top of the door. “Hey— you see that?” 

 

Sergio looks over. It’s a little vent opening to the hallway. “That’s too high— even for you.” 

 

“Yeah, but maybe not for you on me.” Gerard mutters, standing up to inspect the height a bit more.

 

Him on Geri.

 

 _Nope Brain_. Sergio thinks, discarding the thought quickly. _Not today_.

 

Gerard’s eyes wash over his body before shifting back to the vent. “Come here, Sese.”

 

Sergio stood and went over. Geri stands by the door, his back against the wood as his eyes stare unwaveringly into Sergio’s. “Alright, I’m going to pick you up and if you need to, just step on my shoulders. Push the vent open and climb out. I’m sure you’ll fit through.” 

 

“My cleats..” Sergio frowned. “It’s fine.” Geri reassures, wrapping his arms gently around Sergio’s waist. “Just a little pinch. Do whatever you need to. Just get out of this room, okay?”

 

His grip shifts down to the back of Sergio’s knees and tightens, lifting him up. Sergio sets a hand on his shoulder and pushes himself up so his knee is on Geri’s shoulder, pushing the vent roughly and listening to it crash to the ground. 

 

He’s careful not to apply too much pressure on Gerard’s shoulder when he steps there in his cleats, slipping out carefully and jumping down. “It worked!” Sergio says happily.

 

”Good!” Gerard’s muffled voice is relieved. “Now open the door.” 

 

Sergio reached for the hand when he stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Why should I?”

 

”Sergio— come on.”

 

”A trashy pathetic excuse of a captain would’ve left you there.” Sergio snarks.

 

It’s silent for a moment.

 

”I’m sorry,” Geri’s voice is soft, gentle.

 

”You’re just saying that—“

 

”I’m really not. I didn’t mean it Sese— and I’m sorry. I.. I really hurt you, didn’t I?” 

 

Sergio presses his forehead against the door, on the other side Geri does the same. “Stop doing this Geri.”

 

Gerard frowns. “Doing what?”

 

”Being a dramatic asshole and then,” Sergio swallows. “And then making me feel guilty when it’s your fault.”

 

”Open the door.”

 

Sergio sighs, pulling the handle down and pulling it open.

 

He’s suddenly engulfed by large arms, a heavy head resting on the top of his hair.

 

Sergio blinks, because it takes him a minute to realize Geri is hugging him.

 

Geri rarely hugs him outside the pitch.

 

“I can’t promise you anything.” Geri warns. “But... I’m trying. So please— try too?”

 

Sergio snuggles into him because Geri is a big teddy bear. “Okay.”

 

When Geri pulls away, he tries not to look disappointed. But Geri isn’t looking at him. Rather at where they are with a frown. “This is the renovation section Sergio. What the hell?”

 

”What!?” Sergio’s eyes widened as he looked around frantically.

 

How in the _hell_ had he missed that?

 

Gerard leads him out of the hallway and Sergio huffs. “Well, they should have a sign or something—“

 

”They do, you idiot.” Gerard points at the large sign with red words.

 

”Whatever.” Sergio grumbled. 

 

They go to the doors, but they don’t budge open and Sergio groans. He’s not stuck in the small space anymore, but it still sucks that they can’t leavethis fucking Stadium.

 

” _Fuck_.” Gerard runs a hand over his face. “Stadium goes on complete lock down after eleven.” He says.

 

”Do you have your phone? Let’s call someone.”

 

Geri shook his head. “They lock up the dressing rooms.”

 

”What the fuck?”

 

”They do the same thing in the Bernabeu Sese. They lock all the rooms. Same for every other team. UEFA and FIFA rules.”

 

Sergio covered his face in his hands and sighed.

 

He looked over and saw Geri grab a blanket laying over a chair and watched him slide against the wall of the hallway in front of the entrance. He sat on the floor, eyes tired. He blinked up at Sergio. And then slowly he opened his arms out to him. 

 

“They aren’t going to open until nine. Or until someone realizes we’re missing. And you’re shivering. Come here Sese.” Gerard yawned.

 

Sergio doesn’t think twice as he goes over to Geri— because he really is cold. The stadium had open doors leading to the pitch from every direction. The cold breeze almost made him numb. 

 

He falls on his knees in between Geri’s legs, staring at his lazy blue eyes. Geri offers him a small smile, wrapping his arms around Sergio gently and pulling the Madridsta into his warm chest. Sergio curls up against him like a kitten, nuzzling into his neck.

 

Gerard sighed. “What’s wrong with us Sergio?”

 

Sergio huffs. “I don’t know Geri— I really don’t. We’re idiots.”

 

“I don’t want you to hate me.” Geri says honestly.

 

”Neither do I, but you make it so damn difficult not to.” Sergio grumbled in his jersey.

 

”I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, Sergio.”

 

”Probably fighting with Lucas. Careful though. He likes to get physical—“

 

”No— Sergio.” Geri’s voice is impatient. Sergio pulls back an peeks a look up at Gerard who looks down at him. Sergio is taken back by the raw emotion and obvious vulnerability he sees swirling in the blues of Geri’s eyes. An insecurity. “I feel like I’m _nothing_ without you.”

 

Sergio is stupid. 

 

Really stupid.

 

Because somehow his stupid bitchass heart decided it wanted to be the superior organ and completely mind controlled his brain into unwillingly surging up and kissing Geri right on his mouth.

 

Sergio clung to his neck, kissing him with a certain depraved desperation. He hadn't realized how _badly_ he had wanted this. 

 

A strangled squeak of surprise escapes Geri, and Sergio freezes.

 

Geri is tense, shoulders scrunching up. Sergio pulls back slowly and blinks up at the other.

 

Gerard’s eyes are filled with confusion, shock, and disbelief.

 

Sergio curls up in horror.

 

Gerard’s bruised lips part to speak.

 

”Geri?”

 

Sergio practically leaped off of Geri, scrambling to a stand. Gerard’s eyes don’t leave him, but Sergio stares at the two figures standing in the doorway.

 

Messi is holding a set of keys. He’s wearing an unzipped coat with an oversized navy sweater underneath and light blue pajama bottoms. His hair is tousled and messy— sticking up in all sorts of directions. His cheeks are it’s usual pink shade and eye lids half opened sleepily. 

 

Cristiano is the one standing next to him. He looks more awake, frown present. He’s got a beanie over his head (because God forbid anyone see Cris’ hair without its hair gel). He’s wearing grey sweats and a thick black sweater and a coat. He’s also got a key in his hand that resembles one of a car’s.

 

”Told you.” Cris turns to Leo with a shrug. Leo yawns sleepily, shaking his head stubbornly. “Whatever. What are you guys doing in here?”

 

”I got locked in the supply closet and Pique accidently passed out when he ran into a pole.” Sergio stammered, wondering if they saw him kiss Gerard. By the way they were acting, it didn’t seem like it. Leo blinked, turning to Gerard with concern. “Are you okay, Geri?”

 

”Huh? Oh— I’m fine.” Gerard croaks and Sergio tenses.

 

“Wait— How did you guys know?” Sergio then asks nervously.

 

Leo rubs his eyes with another yawn. “Cristiano called me half an hour ago and said you were missing. I tried calling Geri because we though you might’ve been with him, but he didn’t answer. Cris picked me up and Lucho gave me some keys he snagged for the Nou.”

 

”Does he—?”

 

”No. I didn’t tell him why I needed them.” Leo shrugs.

 

Sergio then turned to Cristiano with a scowl. “It took you five motherfucking hours to realize I was gone!?”

 

”You weren’t sharing a room with anyone! I came by your room to give you back your key but you weren’t there. Don’t blame me for both of your stupidities. Be greatful I even called Messi.” Cris sasses. Leo rolls his eyes.

 

“Cool. Anyways— Thanks for saving us, I appreciate it, I’m sorry about you’re shin, and now we’re leaving. Bye Messi.” Sergio rushes out, grabbing Cristiano’s arm.

 

”Just Leo.” 

 

“Right— bye Leo.”

 

”Sergio—“ Geri breaths out.

 

”Bye!”

 

He dashes out with Cristiano muttering profanities behind him. 

 

“You owe me for the beauty sleep I’ve lost.” Cristiano grumbles as he unlocks the doors.

 

Cristiano freezes suddenly. “Wait— I brought Leo here, Sese. Call him back.”

 

”It’s fine! Barcelona’s their city— I’m sure they can find other methods to get home!” Sergio pleads.

 

Cristiano throws him a dirty look. “It’s bad enough I had to call Leo in the first place. That little puppy is snappy when people wake him up from his sleep. Then I had to drag him all the way to Enrique’s house to get the keys and back here to get yours and Gerard’s sorry asses. I’m not leaving him here.” He says calmly. 

 

“Cris— I’m going to have a fucking panic attack if you don’t drive right now.” Sergio demands. 

 

Cristiano groans, reversing the car and backing out.

 

Leo stares at Geri’s dazed and confused form.

 

”What happened?”

 

”Sergio kissed me.”

 

Leo’s expression doesn’t shift, still staring at Geri. “And?”

 

”He _kissed_ me, Leo.” Geri repeats. 

 

“So what? Was it bad?”

 

”What!? No!” Geri stammers. “It’s just.. It’s _Sergio_.”

 

”Did you kiss him back?” 

 

“No.”

 

”Well, you’re dumb.”

 

Geri glares at him. “You’re not fucking helping.” 

 

“Excuse me for being cranky after being woken up at one am in the freaking morning to a phone call from a Madrid diva saying you kidnapped Sergio for torture, have to calm his annoying ass down, worry over you with unanswered calls, get out of bed and somehow go to Lucho’s house in a car with Cristiano fucking Ronaldo without being spotted by the press, deal with a grumpy Lucho and then come out here for Sergio to throw a tantrum and for you to pout over a kiss you fucking enjoyed but are too bitchy to do anything about!” Leo snapped.

 

Geri slumped. “I’m sorry.”

 

Leo stood silent for a moment, calming down. After a while he sighs and walks over, sprawling out into Geri’s lap lazily. “You fucked up with Ramos.”

 

”I know.”

 

”But you’re bitchass probably won’t do anything for another five months.”

 

”Probably.”

 

”I’m taking a nap.”

 

”We need to get home?”

 

”Bet. Cris will come back in ten minutes.”

 

”Yeah right.”

 

”You still don’t know anything about a Madridsta.” Leo sighs. “Now shut up. I’m sleeping.”

 

”Ronaldo isn’t coming.”

 

“You don’t know jack shit about Cris. And because you said that, five minutes. He’ll be here. Now if another word comes out of your mouth, I’ll sew it shut.”

 

Sure enough, four and a half minutes later, Cristiano is trudging back in with a tired gaze.

 

His eyes land on Leo’s sleeping form curled up against Geri and rolled his eyes. “Typical.” He huffs under his breath.

 

Geri isn’t even sure if he should be surprised anymore. Maybe in the morning when he’s well rested he will. 

 

He goes to shake Leo awake when Cris slaps his hands away. “Don’t you dare. He needs sleep. He’s tired.”

 

Then he bends down and lifts Leo up easily, and Leo wraps his arms and legs around Cris like a koala. “Does he usually do that?”  Cristiano asks curiously. Geri nods meekly. 

 

“It’s a habit for him. Don’t think too hard on it.” Geri shrugged. Leo had a problem with wrapping himself around others when he was asleep. 

 

Geri didn’t miss the loving smile that grew on Cris’ face, just chose not to comment on it.

 

They first drop Leo off, Cris gently shaking him awake.

 

”Do you need me to take you up?” Cris asks, and Geri can see in his eyes that he already regrets waking Leo up rather than to carry him up to bed instead. 

 

Leo shakes his head grumpily, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve as he climbed out slowly with a loud yawn.

 

“Make sure to take a long nap later, kitten!” Cris calls out.

 

Leo slams his front door in reply.

 

When they get to Gerard’s house, Geri mutters his thanks before climbing out.

 

”Gerard.”

 

Geri stops, turning back. Cristiano stares at him, unimpressed. “I don’t know what happened between you and Sergio. Quite frankly, it’s none of my business and it’ll stay that way. But— don’t wait months to fix this, okay?”

 

”I won’t.” Geri lies swiftly.

 

Cristiano stares at him, face dropping slightly. He nods stiffly then. Gerard sucks in a breath when he realizes—

 

Cris doesn’t _believe him_.

 

When the Portuguese drives off, Geri presses a gentle finger against his lips. He remembers the way Sergio felt and tasted. He wondered for a moment, that if he had kissed back, would it have feel different?

 

The answer?

 

He’d never know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg there is no way I can put Cris and Leo in a story together with there being no relationship between them.
> 
> Main is Serard but there’s a bit of Cressi if you squint. 
> 
> (I couldn’t help myself)


	5. Shadows Settle On The Place That You Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only amusing thing about working in the coffee shop was writing those sly messages that made Geri scowl.

_**AU Day** _

 

There's a new costumer at Carlo’s coffee shop.

 

Most days were boring for Sergio. Apart from football at School, nothing seemed amusing anymore. And yet, despite the enormous (in his opinion) amount of time he’d spend studying for his upcoming midterm exams, most of his time was spent at the coffee shop putting on a fake cheerful smile for people with that “Hi! Welcome to Carlo’s! My name is Sergio. What can I get you today? Here you go! Have a great day!” Sergio’s pleased to state that after a month, he had the slogan nailed in the bag. His coworker Isco has been pretty impressed with it too. He likes his coworkers. The only thing that sucked ass was that they’d always force Sergio to talk to people. Sergio knows his abilities as well as the other guy. He’d rather make the coffee instead of having to speak and struggle to properly write people’s names in cups without them getting offended. It was even worse that he absolutely HATED the taste of coffee. Making it was fun, but Jesus, it tasted disgusting. So naturally he was already judgmental of everyone that came in the coffee shop.

 

But anyways— There was a new costumer at the coffee shop that day. He was as tall as a fucking giraffe. His hair looked incredibly soft and Sergio had to restrain himself from reaching up and touching the locks in awe. He had a bright and beaming smile on his face with gorgeously twinkling blue eyes. The man was close to perfect.

 

Well, except for that... _shirt_.

 

That _Barcelona shirt_.

 

Sergio’s grin grew and grew when he moved his eyes from the top of the man’s head down to his chin. And then it dropped the minute he saw those ugly blue and red stripes.

 

In Sergio’s defense, it was treacherous to wear a Barça Jersey in the heart of Madrid. And considering this was a new costumer—

 

He has no problem telling him that.

 

Not directly of course, he’d get fired if _that_ happened.

 

“Hi! Welcome to Carlo’s! My name is Sergio. What can I get you today?“ 

 

The smile on Sergio’s face was even more forced than usual. He kept glancing back at that FCB crest. 

 

“Hi Sergio. Can I just get an iced coffee with milk?” He replies, pulling out his wallet while glancing at the many to make sure that’s what he wanted.

 

“No problem. Can I get a name with it?”

 

”Geri.”

 

”Alright, Geri. We'll call you up.” Sergio faked a smile. Geri nods, walking away and Sergio’s grin shifts to a scowl as he watched after the tall man.

 

“Do you see this? A culé! In Madrid! The _center_ of Madrid!” Sergio hissed to Isco who shrugged. 

 

Sergio stares at the cup with his name for a moment, then slowly and hesitantly he grabbed it again and wrote a quick little message.

 

_**2—1** _

_- <3 Sergio._

 

Geri takes it without a second glace.

 

>>> <<<

 

Sergio is scribbling down on a receipt when a cup slams on the counter in front of him.

 

He yelped, jumping in shock. His heart skips with adrenaline as he meets the annoyed blue eyes of a familiar face.

 

_It’s the Barça dude!_

 

”You think you’re real funny don’t you? You messed with the wrong Barça man buddy.” Geri snaps. Sergio’s eyes flickered from his face down to the crumpled cup with his cheeky message on it.

 

Okay— in Sergio's defense, this Geri dude was suppose to be too embarrassed with what Sergio had done that he didn’t come back. And maybe that made Sergio a bad person for running off his costumers and offending them, but Geri was just that one costumer he didn’t want to see again. _No one_ came in here wearing a Barcelona jersey. 

 

“What the _fuck_ — you weren’t suppose to come back!” Sergio stammers.

 

”Well, here I am you dick. With your fucking coffee cup message too.” Geri snaps, shaking the empty cup viciously. “What’s your name again?”

 

Sergio is suddenly clinging to Geri’s arm, fake sobbing into his shoulder. “Oh please! I need this job! My cat died!”

 

”Get off me— I’m not getting you fired, you piece of shit.” Geri pushes Sergio off of him.

 

”You’re not?” Sergio stops abruptly. Geri narrows his eyes on his tag.

 

”Sergio?”

 

”Sergio Ramos.” The Barista stick his hand out. Geri grabs it hesitantly, shaking it slowly. “Gerard Pique.”

 

Sergio freezes. “Wait a minute... you’re that dick that posts those tweets on the college wall!?”

 

”And you’re the ass that replies to them.” Gerard snorts.

 

”Well yeah— everything you say is bullshit.” Sergio snapped. “Real Madrid obviously is the better team.”

 

”It’s March— not April.” Gerard sassed. They narrow their eyes on each other accusingly. 

 

“2-1? Really? Did you forget 3-0?” 

 

Sergio scowled. “Fuck off.” He pulls his apron off and Gerard snatched his cup, marching out of the coffee shop.

 

Sergio bumps into a startled Isco. “What’s wrong?” The brunette asks, alarmed upon seeing Sergio’s annoyed expression.

 

”Nothing!” Sergio hisses, storming down the hall. “I’m taking a break!”

 

”You already took a break today!”

 

”I’m taking another one! Leave me alone!”

 

>>> <<<

 

Gerard comes back on Friday and scowls when he sees Sergio who straightens and puffs out his chest like he’s about to go out to war.

 

Talking with Pique felt like a war if he was honest.

 

”Just a black coffee.” Geri grumbled when he came up. Sergio narrows his eyes. “Why are you back?”

 

”Because the coffee is pretty damn good and it’s worth putting up with you for.” Geri says arrogantly. “How much?”

 

”$1.50.” Sergio sighed.

 

Gerard handed him the two one dollar bills. “Keep the change.”

 

”How generous of you.” Sergio replies with sarcasm. “I could always take it back and get a packet of gum,” Geri threatened.

 

Sergio drops the quarters in the jar. “Oops! Too late.”

 

Gerard walks towards the other side of the counter and Sergio grabs a cup. 

 

_**Geri** _

 

_**Hala Madrid** _

_- <3 Sese_

 

He snickers when he hands Geri the coffee and the other man scowls, muttering “motherfucker” as he walks out of the cafe.

 

Sergio feels accomplished.

 

>>> <<<

 

“I know, mom. Okay— I got it.” Geri sighs as we walks up to the counter.

 

Sergio stares at him patiently, listening to the person on the other side of the phone blabber on about something.

 

”Yeah,” Geri looks up and meets Sergio’s gaze. “I will. I’ll do it soon.”

 

 _Black_? Sergio mouths.

 

Surprised, Geri nods. Sergio turns to make his coffee as Gerard continues to talk over the phone.

 

Sergio scribbles his note on the cup before handing it to him with a grin. You see, the only amusing thing about working in the coffee shop was writing those sly messages that made Geri scowl.

 

**_Barcelona sold Neymar? Aw. How sad! :(_ **

_- <3 Sese  
_

 

”You fucking bitch,” Geri snarls upon seeing the message.

 

Suddenly his eyes widen and Sergio can hear a woman yelling in the other end as Geri made his way out of the cafe. 

 

“No mama, not you—“ 

 

Sergio laughs.

 

>>> <<<

 

 “Just a black, Sese.” Geri yawned leaning against the counter.

 

”Sure thing, man.”

 

Geri stops, looking up. He doesnt meet Sergio’s usual smirking stare but instead a soft, bright, and cheery face.

 

He hates it.

 

“You’re not Sese.” He glared, standing up straighter. The other man whose name tag read **Isco** smiled sheepishly. “No, I’m not.”

 

”Where’s Sergio? It’s Friday. He always works Fridays.” Geri crosses his arms defensively.

 

”I... I’m not sure. He should be working today but he didn’t show and he never called in. I’m just covering for him.” Isco frowns. “I’m a little worried though. He isn’t answering my texts either.”

 

Gerard stares at the counter as his coffee is made, wondering where the hell the little Madridsta could possibly be. 

 

When end he gets his cup, he stares down at it.

 

**_Geri._ **

 

He swallows down the tiny ache and disappointment he feels when that’s all there is.

 

With a frustrated huff, he pulls his backpack on, grabbing his coffee and opening the door. 

 

Someone slams into his body then, and Geri stumbles back a few steps. His lid pops open after he squeezes it too tight in surprise and the scorching liquid falls onto his hand, burning it.

 

Gerard hisses in pain, dropping the cup. He craddles his hand to his chest and looks up with a burning glare.

 

He stops when his eyes meet Sergio’s surprised ones.

 

But then his eyes trail down to the bruises on his face and the cut on his lip and Geri falters.

 

”... Sergio?” He mutters, gaze shocked.

 

”Sese! Bro— where have you been!?” Isco called out, stopping abruptly when he sees his friend’s beat up face. “Shit dude! You look... well— like _shit_.”

 

Geri and Sese throw the other a dirty look.

 

”What happened?” Geri demanded, turning back to Sergio who glared up at him. “None of your business.”

 

Gerard clenched his jaw, teeth grinding as he matched the shorter man’s gaze. He put a hand on his shoulder, turning Sergio back to face him when the Madridsta turned away from him. “Sergio, who the fuck?” 

 

“I said none of your fucking business, Geri!” He snapped, slapping Gerard’s hand away.

 

Geri hisses again in pain, clutching his burned hand. Sergio freezes, eyes lowering to the dark red, almost purple, burn mark.

 

”Wha— What happened to your hand!?” Sergio reached out to grab it, but Geri stepped back and pulled his hand away, glaring at Sergio. “None of your ducking business.” He repeats sarcastically.

 

Sergio scowls. “Don’t be a child. That’s going to get worse if you don’t put some cream on it.”

 

”Who gives a fuck. I can do it myself.” Geri bumps shoulders with him roughly as he tried to make his way out.

 

Sergio grabs his wrist tightly, yanking him towards the back room. “Stop being a little bitch and let me help you, damn it. Why do you always have to do things alone?”

 

”Right back at you, hypocrite.” Geri snaps, but allows Sergio to drag him off.

 

Sergio sternly sits Gerard down in a chair before he starts rummaging through a box.

 

Gerard let’s his eyes wonder around the other man’s broad shoulders, looking at the slightly ripped and dirty sweater he was wearing.

 

When Sergio turns back, Geri watches him walk over and sit down on the coffee table in front of him, opening the first aid box he had grabbed.

 

”How did you burn yourself?” Sergio mutters, pulling Gerard’s hand into his lap and opening the cap.

 

”You bumped into me and made me drop my coffee all over myself.” His reply is quiet as he watches Sergio rub the cream into his burned skin with a gentle hand.

 

Unconsciously, he reached up and ran his thumb over the cut on the bottom left corner of Sergio’s lip. Sergio’s startled eyes glance up to meet Geri’s.

 

”What happened?”

 

Sergio’s gaze lowered. “Just some assholes who wanted my shit. I told them to fuck off.”

 

After a couple minutes with no reply from Gerard, Sergio glances at him with annoyance. “What? You going to tell me that I should’ve just listened to them and that I was an idiot?”

 

Geri is smirking though. “Actually, I was wondering if you were able to get a few punches in of your own.” 

 

Sergio blinked, a flush spreading on his face. “Well, they ended up worse than me. I beat their asses to oblivion. They’ll think twice before trying to threaten the next guy.” He stammered out, cheeks reddening even more as Geri leaned in, face an inch away from his own.

 

”It’s a pity,” Geri breathed, staring right up at Sergio, his gaze bright. 

 

“What is?” Sergio swallows thickly.

 

”That I wasn’t there. I would’ve knocked their teeth in.”

 

And when Geri pressed his lips against Sergio’s, tongue running gently over the cut on his bottom lip, Sergio didn’t even mind the taste of coffee entering his mouth as he pulled Geri in closer.

 

 _Coffee isn’t so bad_. He thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord give me the strength to finish this. It’s already hella late, but hey! Better late than never.
> 
>  
> 
> This ship is my guilty pleasure btw.


End file.
